


Love in all its Immensity

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Malia Tate, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: Malia's self-growth and falling in love with Scott.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ".....  
> what should I do with this longing?  
> tuck it away like a letter  
> that i'm too afraid to send?  
> ....."
> 
> longing --- k.y. robinson

Stiles laughed obnoxiously loud, throwing his head back and howling with it. The curve of his nose and the freckles of his face were illuminated in the sun. Scott slapped his back, grin slitting his face, tee-shirt hanging off his shoulders. Lydia huffed and pretended to be too mature to giggle along, but she let a smile slip. Malia hung back, behind the clear glass door of their high school. It was cold against her nose and her breath fogged it slowly. It felt like a barrier between two countries that used to be one. She struggled to keep her eyes brown, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. 

She wanted to be there. 

Her vision blurred until she was unsure what she was seeing and she jerked an unsteady hand up to wipe at her eyes. She growled lowly at herself and glanced away from her friends. 

She was crying, again. Over Stiles. 

Malia had felt isolated since childhood, but had never thought that it was a bad thing. Now she realized that it was. She had lost everything to the shift and the car wreck. Then she had been alone, she had run away from the guilt, the pressure, the longing she felt for her family. She wanted them back, since the moment she had woken up with blood dried on her body in the middle of a wreckage. 

Malia didn’t want to admit that she was also afraid that she’d lost all her friends, but not to death as she feared. She had been thrown out, she was alone again, she was—

Eyes bore into her and she snapped her head up, hair flinging into her face to hide her expression, but she knew it was too late. Scott’s brown eyes met hers, all the way from the table where he sat with everyone else. 

Malia broke their connection and stormed away from the door and the image of her people, being without her, happily. 

She felt a crack in her sternum and the ache of it. She wanted to run from it again, but she couldn’t escape from her own bones. Malia had let herself need people, love people, and now. Now she was lost in the woods again. 

As Malia stomped home, her sneakers untied and she didn’t notice or care. She studied the veins in the leaves, wondered at the simple beauty of it. The sun glinted off the edges like it had Stiles’s face.

It was alive and it didn’t have to go through abysmal breakups. She sighed through her nose and started to walk away, but her shoe slipped off her heel. Her bare foot touched the dry dust of the pavement, just a spark of earth. The coyote in her chest pulled out into the woods, begging for fur and dirt and freedom. She spun around, hair cascading in a halo around her. 

She wouldn’t have to think now, for a while. 

Malia left her shoes in a pile in the middle of the sidewalk and dashed into the foliage. The leaves caressed her arms and face as she dug deeper into the forest, until she dropped to the ground and pawed at a tree root.

Was this home now? Stiles had been home. Was that a mistake? Maybe she never should have left the woods. 

~~~

It took a long time to find her clothes. They were half buried with twigs in her coyote's attempt at hiding them. She was splattered with mud, dried sticks, and was barefoot. But she was home. Malia snuck into her bedroom window only to notice too late that it was slightly cracked open. She hid her surprise quickly, smoothing out her features and eating her fangs. 

“What are you doing here?” she said with ice, pushing past his towering form and shaking her hair out.  
Scott picked a twig off his shoulder and smiled at her. “I came to bring you your shoes back,” he said easily, wagging her shoes in his hand, the other held up in submission.

Malia swiped them out of his hands and gave a stilted smile before muttering, “thanks.”

Scott shrugged and looked bashful, as if she had thanked him warmly. He scratched the back of his head, and it reminded her of how Stiles would rub his head and she looked away. 

“Hey, Lia, if you ever need to talk…” he offered, eyes welcoming and bright. 

She passed her eyes over his face and nodded. Her head was beginning to hurt. This was all too overwhelming, the ache was awakened again and she wanted to drift away from it all. But he was here, dragging her back to the present. 

“Yeah, I know Scott,” she snapped, flopping on her bed and struggling out of her blouse. 

Scott gave her a worried look that she despised and smiled again, unaffected by her nakedness. She felt a little easier in her skin, a little less alone. Scott began to climb out onto her roof, arms threading through his black hair as he grabbed the window. It creaked and the locked smacked against the seal as he closed it behind him.

Pushing people away hurt more than she wanted to admit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> ...would i know  
> what peace looked like  
> if it gently knocked  
> on my heart?
> 
> would i open  
> the door  
> or pretend  
> i wasn't home?"  
> \--- self-sabotage, k.y. robinson

She was dying. 

Malia had never died before, but this had to be it. Fear coursed against her spine and she steadied a brittle hand against the wall. She heard Braeden screaming but it sounded beyond her, so far away. 

Then she heard Stiles. Stiles, Stiles had come. He always came. The sudden realization that he was only in harm’s way because of her, because of her feelings, sliced into her stomach and she doubled over. Malia’s bleeding knees hit the floor and Braeden’s gun went off.  
Stiles, she had to get to Stiles. 

Malia crawled to the front door and had a moment of clarity that Stiles was there; they’d get through this together, before the Desert Wolf barreled into her chest. The table under them splintered, glass like knives pricking her skin. 

Stiles, her Stiles, tried to protect her. Guilt dragged her down into the floor as she reached for him. Her mother threw him into the blades that had replaced the glass on the floor. 

He rolled over onto his side, mouth is a silent scream. A piece of glass, glass again, protruded out of his neck. No, she thought, it’s supposed to be in his chest. Malia kicked the Desert Wolf away from her, frenzied, not caring if she lived or died. She just had to get to Stiles. 

The blood sprang from his mouth and he choked on it, unable to speak. Next to him, Kiley lay dressed in blood and lifeless eyes. Why was her sister here? Her mother laughed as Stiles’s heart gave out. Malia screamed, and screamed, and screamed…

The blaring of her phone shook her from her nightmare. Malia groaned. Her voice was hoarse and she winced as she grappled around for her phone.

2:10 am  
3 New Messages. 

2:07 am  
Liam: u ok?

2:05 am  
Hayden: Shut up, please. 

2:05 am  
Scott: I’m coming.

Malia huffed and stuffed her face back in her pillow, wishing for quiet sleep as Scott rapped on her window twice. 

She didn’t answer, anger bristling in her face. Everyone was making her plan to be solitary harder than it needed to be. 

Malia grumbled into her bedding and kept suffocating herself while Scott slipped into her room and shut the window. He leaned against it and watched her. She flipped her face so she could breathe and stared into the darkness of her bedroom. It was ugly and warped her room into unkind shadows. The dream was already draining from her mind, but the terror and loss stayed with her, heavy in her palms. She tried to grasp it, clenching her hand into a fist, but it melted into her chest and sat there instead.

Scott took her motion as an invitation and sat on the floor next to her bed. She peeked at his face, the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and the ghost of a smile attempted for her. Did any of them get decent sleep anymore?

“You thought about talking to Deaton?” Scott asked, voice sleep filled and warm.

Malia thought about not responding but was too weak to be stubborn.“Drugs remind me of Eichen house,” she said, shrugging as she pulled her legs into her chest, flipping onto her side to face him. 

“Maybe just talking, then,” he said, stretching out so his feet touched her sheets. 

Malia scrunched up her nose. It’s not that she didn’t trust Deaton; it was that she barely understood these things about herself. How could she explain them to someone else? 

She watched him move his toes absentmindedly and they both went into a gentle silence. She thought about how Scott hadn’t pressed her, had accepted her word unquestioned. She offered him a worn smile and he answered hers brightly. 

Maybe she still had Scott, after all. Maybe, maybe she didn’t need to be alone. 

~~~~

She blinked awake sometime later and smirked when she saw the peak of black hair poking up over her bed. He had fallen asleep with her, head in his arms that rested on her mattress. She stuck her toe out and bopped his forehead. 

Scott slowly moved to glance at her, bleary eyed. His hair was smashed to one side and he looked soft in a way that she hadn’t seen very often. Something behind her ribcage shifted and she patted his cheek.

“Morning,” he whispered, yawning into her hand. She snorted and withdrew it, making a face and wiping the spit onto her sheets. 

“Loser,” she teased, watching him try to smooth his hair with no avail. 

He threw a look at her to call her bluff and she rolled her eyes. There was something sacred in this early hour. It felt suspended from everything she’d been dealing with, from the coming school day, from her nightmares. Nothing could touch them here, she thought.

Scott gave her a thoughtful look and Malia pondered at the stillness she shakily sat in. The wave of it brushed up against her face. It winded her and pushed against the bricks she had built up since Stiles. Cleansing, she thought, and swallowed the blooming heat in her throat. Scott studied her with a mellow spirit and even as she pushed down her tears she took a moment to discern that this was the weight of safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> As always, please leave a comment with your thoughts. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> ...the earth tones  
> clinging to the flesh  
> of my bones  
> couldn't compete  
> with the beauty  
> and geometry  
> of a snowflake."  
> \----  
> when you met laura- k.y. robinson

The warmth of the morning withered as they made it to school. Scott shouldered his backpack and waved as they parted, but Malia’s eyes were elsewhere. 

Stiles and Lydia sat, foreheads pressed together, smiling and laughing at something they were reading. Bitterness crawled into Malia’s lungs and she growled lowly. Jealously wretched its way into her and she slugged her way to class. 

She didn’t want to think about Stiles, she avoided it as much as she humanly could. It didn’t help that they had classes together, that Lydia and Scott talked about him. Her subconscious threw him in her peripheral vision whenever she let her mind wonder, so she tried to pay attention more closely to the lecture. 

She was without her other half. She didn’t know how to be human without his help; she didn’t know how to be herself without him. The taste of it soiled her mood and she tapped her claws against her desk. 

“Lia, claws,” Lydia whispered, placing her hand feather-light on her shoulder. Malia nodded and focused on retracting them, angry that she hadn’t noticed them before. She was at once thankful for Lydia and pissed at her, and the complicatedness ached in her bones. 

She knew that Stiles had loved Lydia, but he had loved and chosen Malia. That was all that had mattered to her. But now it was becoming more and more apparent that Lydia was falling for Stiles, and Malia knew in her gut that she wasn’t getting Stiles back. 

The lack of closure made her even more upset, eyes flashing unexpectedly. Stiles quickly raised his hand and asked a loud question, but his loyalty only exasperated the complexity of her loss of control. Malia raced out of the classroom, ignoring her teacher shouting and Lydia’s heels following her retreat. 

It wasn’t lost to her that it used to be Stiles that came after her, made excuses for her, helped her.

Loved her.

She felt the heat behind her eyes slam against her and she opened her mouth. Nothing came out and, not for the first time, she wished she was Lydia. 

Arms wrapped around her and nails slipped into her hair. She fell into Lydia’s embrace and let her tears fall, wracking with it. 

Lydia didn’t tell her to stop, didn’t tell her she was stupid or berate her. She only rocked Malia slowly, solid even with armfuls of werecoyote. She should be afraid, Malia thought, but there was no fear in her scent.

Malia was ashamed at her outburst, her monstrous feelings. She didn’t deserve Scott or Lydia as friends; she didn’t deserve to make up with Stiles. She wanted to be happy for them, but what about her?

Anchor, anchor, her coyote yelped, but it crept into her that she didn’t have one anymore. 

Be your own anchor, that’s what Scott had said. When he lost Allison, when Kira left, Scott took care of himself. 

Malia’s lack of strength astounded her, and she stepped away from Lydia unsteadily. 

“I’m going home,” she said, rubbing her arms to ward off the coldness of it all. 

“Okay,” Lydia said, understanding in her eyes that made Malia want to cry again.

“Don’t tell Scott,” she said as she slipped out of the room. Malia didn’t hear her respond and crossed her fingers. 

~~~~

She told Scott. 

Malia stood in front of her mirror, scrutinizing herself. What was wrong with her? She had done everything right; at least, she hoped she had. She imagined herself as Lydia, with long hair again, red, beautiful. 

Worthy. 

Her door opened and Scott stepped inside, her father behind him. Her father studied her for a moment, looking helplessly at Scott before closing the door.

He didn’t say anything, just watched her reflection. She shifted her weight from side to side, judging. 

She meant to ask why she didn’t get to keep her anchor, but it caught in her teeth. That wasn’t fair; Scott didn’t get to keep his anchor. At least Stiles was still alive.

Malia could have said, ‘why am I not good enough?’ or ‘who am I now?’

Instead she croaked, “I wish I had Lydia’s hair.”

Scott let out a wheeze, almost an aghast laugh. Malia whirled around and something in her eyes sobered him. 

“I like your hair,” he told her, eyes traveling down her face. She turned away, sad in a way that she wasn’t used to. 

“Lia,” he said, taking a step forward. She didn’t look at him, but she was listening. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Malia blinked slowly, the sadness graying, and said, “so are you.”

Scott laughed, stronger this time, rubbing the back of his head. This time it didn’t serve as a reminder of Stiles. Malia only associated it with Scott being a dork. She smiled back, ginger hair forgotten for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leave a comment for me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...  
> there are days  
> you'll wish  
> to un-breathe  
> every breath,  
> unopen your eyes  
> and fade into black."
> 
> when you're feeling low--k.y. robinson

Malia’s head rested on rose colored sheets as she stared inquisitively at the iron work light fixture on the ceiling of Lydia’s room. She liked the curve of the metal, though she could never talk herself into having something similar. Not having a job made her afraid of burdening her father, so she tended to keep a sparse room. Lydia’s walls were littered with pictures, star lights, hanging lamps. It was filled with a personality and brightness, and she wondered if she was lacking the same thing. Malia frowned, watching the star lights blink in and out of existence. Was she just a monster without an anchor?

Without Stiles, who was she?

Lydia hummed listlessly from beside her, patted her shirt down and pursed her lips. Malia sighed and turned her head to glance at her. 

“Who do you think I am?” Malia asked, partly to Lydia and also to the mirror behind her. 

Lydia closed her eyes, searching for answers or collecting herself. Malia balled her hands into fists, not liking the striking ache in her sternum. Thinking about these things was too hard. 

Lydia interrupted her thoughts and said, “that’s for you to figure out, sweetie.” She smiled, her eyes kind and but gravely old. Malia shifted on the bed, wrapping her arms around her middle. 

It occurred to her that maybe this is what everyone had to go through, that perhaps she wasn’t alone in this self-searching, though her situation was extreme. 

Lydia rolled onto her side, the wrinkles in her skirt forgotten, and continued, “you gotta face all of this. You are strong enough, Lia.”

Malia almost bit through her lip. She wanted that strength, that independence, that belief that Lydia had in her. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and her eye caught a glimpse at Lydia’s dangling black earrings. Her first thought was that maybe she should get her ears pierced, maybe that was what Stiles liked, but then she slammed that idea into the wall mercilessly. 

She didn’t need to mold herself to fit Stiles, though her empty gut sang for an easy fix. How badly did she want to be Lydia, because she had no idea who she was without Stiles. 

“It’s not that I’m losing him to you,” she croaked, throat seizing up and hot coals were on her tongue, “it’s that I’ve already lost him.”

Lydia’s eyes welled up and she scooted closer, gently taking ahold of Malia’s bigger hand and clasping it tightly. Malia huffed at crying again, but Lydia hushed her. 

“Emotions are important, even sad ones,” she promised, wiping a manicured hand across Malia’s cheeks. 

Malia pushed her face against Lydia’s sweater and the red head drew her closer. It was all so much and she felt like she had no starting point. 

As always, Lydia was reading her thoughts. “You and Stiles need to talk,” she said with a stern voice, eyes calculating and mouth set. 

Malia groaned at how much she did not want to do that. Avoiding each other is what they were best at, at least since the infamous “break up.” 

“I won’t,” Lydia choked out, voice fired and hot white, “I won’t be with him until this is worked out. I can’t, I won’t, it’s…it’s important for all of us to communicate.” She grabbed Malia’s face in both her hands and pressed their foreheads together. “You are my best friend,” Lydia said, calmer but no less avid, “and he’s my best friend too.” 

Malia sniffed and nodded, chin out and trembling. “I want everything to be the way it was,” she admitted, hunching into herself, shoulders folding together.

Lydia sucked in her lip and shook her head, keeping her grip on Malia’s reddened face. “I can’t make that happen,” she said, voice breaking at the end, “but change isn’t a bad thing.” 

Not for you, Malia thought, but chastised herself for it. Lydia was trying, was being there for her. Malia rocked her head against Lydia’s palm and sighed. 

“Remember that you always have me,” Lydia said, grinning through her mascara ridden face. 

“I had you before,” Malia chuckled, smirking at her friend and feeling her heart expand. 

“Yeah, well, you still do,” Lydia said, bumping their shoulders before walking over to her mirror and frowned at her face. “I’m never getting this off,” she grumbled, attacking it with makeup remover. 

Malia laughed at the goodness of the feeling overwhelming her and she said, “I don’t know, you could make a new look.”

Lydia threw a glare over her shoulder and Malia rolled around on Lydia’s bed, and decided she was getting green sheets from the thrift shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...  
> the first time I saw you,  
> you siphoned the air  
> out of the room  
> and left me breathless.   
> i thought you were god."  
> love at first sight-- k.y. robinson

It nagged her all day. The sinking weight in her feet, not grounding her, trying to press her into the floor.

School dragged on, the clock ticking ominously in the background. Malia hadn’t texted Stiles, because she didn’t want to make him anxious by sending ‘we need to talk’. It would have drove her up the wall if she had gotten that kind of text from him, not counting the fact that Stiles was predisposed to anxiety in the first place. 

Instead, Malia had stopped him at his locker. He met her eyes, and then looked away. It would have felt better if he hadn’t looked at her at all. She told him that they were going to talk after school, and after a moment of hesitation, he agreed. 

Malia sucked in a breath, sitting in her metal desk, foot tapping and overflowing with agitation. She bit at her pink lip, clenched onto the desk with her hands. The pang in her chest distracted her from Scott trying to get her attention by sending intense stares at her. She rested in the pull of it, how she wanted to run from this, but she was choosing not to. She was intent on doing this, if not for Lydia, then for herself. 

There was guilt punching in her stomach, the belief that doing something for herself was selfish. That it was her being a beast, not a person. But there was a danger serving others and not taking time and effort for oneself. Scott had struggled with it and almost drowned in it, coming out more balanced and in control. 

She had a lot to learn, but she knew that loving herself, whatever tiny parts she knew, was important. 

Malia wanted the closure that came with communication. They would never be okay without it, and the pack would fall apart. This talk was for everything. 

The bell rang for the last period of the day and she shot out of her chair and almost made it to her locker before a hand gently caught her wrist. 

Scott’s big puppy eyes met hers and she smiled, full of nerves and electricity. He was concerned, she had felt that all day as she sat rigid and tense. 

“I’m fine,” she said, opening her locker too fast and almost smacking him in the face with it. 

He stopped it with a bang against his hand and peeked around her locker door, “But, Lia…”

Malia sighed and deftly threw her books into her backpack and said, “I’m talking to Stiles today, after school.”

Scott’s shoulders dropped their worry and he smiled, but it was thin. 

“He wants to talk to you,” he offered, hand reaching for her. She grimaced and his hand stopped short while he said, “I mean it.”

“I’m sure he does,” she snipped sardonically before deflating, her barb dropped, “I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know, call me tonight and we’ll go do something,” he promised and she nodded, mind too busy and jumpy. 

“Love you,” she said, pushing past him quickly, not thinking about what she said until she was half way home. 

She tilted her head to the side, brow shifted. Where had that come from?

Sure, she loved Scott. He was her alpha, her friend, her best friend. He was always there for her, understood her, and stood by her side whether in a fight or during a math test. 

It played over and over again in her head and she stayed, stalemated, knowing she was missing something important about this. She envisioned Scott smiling down at her and her heart lurched, warmth spread through her chest and the terror she felt about The Talk subsided. 

She thought that maybe she just loved Scott, and that was that. He always had Kira around until he didn’t. 

Thinking of Kira made her wistfully look to the sky, wondering when they would see her again, if ever. The plan she had to go visit her, without or without permission, resonated now more than ever. Kira would understand, she’d know. 

Her phone beeped and she absentmindedly flicked at the screen.

3:40 pm

Stiles <3 

Omw 

Malia swallowed down her guts that had just crept their way up her esophagus. Slowly she opened up Stiles’s contact screen and edited it. 

Stiles.

His name stood plainly, like a gate in her way, a chain around her neck, the rocks that had replaced her feet. 

She froze in place, realizing that that was the first time she had thought of Stiles as a negative in her life. 

Maybe this was moving on.

Elated, Malia ran home, said, “hidadcan’ttalkstilesiscoming,” to her dad, and rolled up on her toes giddily. The screeching change of her feelings made her lightheaded but it was welcomed.

She could be strong enough to tell him all she felt. There was no getting him back, anyway, she thought, and nodded to herself. 

Malia was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comment if you'd like, it really helps!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...  
> I was left behind,  
> breathless and  
> aimlessly wondering,  
> ..."  
> lost, k.y. robinson

As Stiles walked through her front door his face dropped, before he quickly composed it back into a smile. Malia knew that he had seen the picture her dad had forgotten to take down like she asked, the one where she and Stiles smiled brightly, Malia on his back, peeking over his shoulder. There was another, one where Stiles latched onto her back instead, that sat in her room, face down. 

She hadn’t brought herself to put it somewhere else yet. 

Stiles waved stiffly but Malia’s pained smile made him stop. He glanced at her room, but Malia had sat herself down on the blue cotton couch, not willing to move. Then she thought of her dad in the kitchen, pretending to be cooking pasta, and sighed. She jumped off the warmth and safety of the couch. 

They walked into her room and Malia gently closed the door, not knowing if she was losing by giving inches or winning by being kind. It felt like a test, a game, and Malia hated tests. She sat down on her bed and Stiles's eyed it warily before sitting next to her. 

“Mal,” Stiles said, and Malia bit her cheek to stop her automatic response. She wanted to say, ‘don’t call me that.’ She wanted to shout, ‘you have no right!’ She wanted to cry.

Instead she answered, “Yes?” in a way that she hoped wasn’t as attentive as she felt. It was molasses; it was like eating butter, sickly delicious and disgusting textures in her mouth. 

She tried to calm the excitement and terror she felt, and waited as patiently as she could. Stiles looked around her room, fidgeted with his shirt, seemed to stare at her knees. 

Finally he said, “I like your new sheets.” Malia clenched her teeth and looked away from him. 

What was she supposed to say? ‘Yeah, I needed something to help me find myself?’ or ‘Yeah, I wanted to be free from you?’

Malia said, “I liked the color,” and Stiles looked at her like they hadn’t been barely speaking for a month. He looked at her like before they had gotten into his jeep, before he had slammed the door and walked away, basically without another word. 

“It’s a good color,” he agreed, eyes kind and Malia tore her gaze away. It made her heart convulse and then drop into her spine to die. It was like nothing had happened and Malia decided to get angry. How dare he act like he hadn’t been the one to spin her life on its head?

“Why are you here?” she snapped, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, not wanting to hide from him. She was brave, she was strong. Malia kept repeating it to herself as Stiles struggled with words, staring at his hands. 

“I wanted,” Stiles began, and Malia was trying to berate herself that she didn’t care what he wanted as he continued, “to say I’m sorry.”

Malia stiffened, sitting up straighter and smoothing her sleeves down her arms as she said, “well, that’s good.”

He laughed, and she frowned because she didn’t want to hear that, to feel like she made him happy, to hear that he was happy with her again, and to know he was happy without her this whole time. 

“I missed you,” he said as his laugh drifted off, a lazy smile on his face. 

Malia’s eyes flashed and she growled. “You think you can just come in here, and everything’s gonna be okay?” Malia shouted, swinging around to face him and standing up, putting distance between them. 

“No! No, Mal,” he tried, hands up in defense, but Malia couldn’t stop the words she had been thinking for a month from leaving her mouth. 

“Because, because, that’s not fair,” she said, spearing forward through every wall she had put up against her feelings, “I loved you, you fucker, I loved you and I was there for you and I thought you loved me too!”

Stiles’s face scrunched up, but he said nothing, opening himself up for her attack.

“You left me, you didn’t even tell me why!” she said, finally catching her breath and holding herself around her stomach. 

“Because I didn’t want to face what I did, that I had killed somebody, and you were there, completely accepting, and I couldn’t handle it,” he said, looking towards her window, hands clenched together, body shaking. “And then, then Scott and I fixed things, but I was too scared to fix things with you. Then, Lydia started acting differently around me, and I realized I still loved her…” he choked off, and Malia could smell how upset he was. 

She wanted to keep being angry, but something rang in her head. Lydia saying, “I won’t be with him until we figure this out.” She had control here, and she could either tear everything apart, or…

She sat down next to Stiles and took his hand, and it hurt, but it wasn’t a stab, just a blip on her radar. “So, it wasn’t because of me?” she asked tentatively, and Stiles looked at her in shock. 

“Malia, no! No, Mal, it wasn’t your fault. It was me. You were perfect,” he swore, and his eyes blazed with anger because she was blaming herself. 

It didn’t stop the sorrow that they had lost each other anyway. That it had gotten screwed up and now it was just over. 

“So we just aren’t meant to work?” she asked, lips thin to stop her sadness from leaking out. 

“I don’t know, but I do know that I loved you, and I still do, I’m always going to,” Stiles said, grasping the back of her head and pressing their foreheads together. 

“We are pack,” she promised and Stiles’s hand tightened. She could sense his relief. She leaned forward and hugged him, and found that it ached like a healing wound.

“About Lydia,” she started and Stiles looked at her, “its okay.” 

Stiles seemed like he was going to sob and she held him tighter. 

He said, “I swear to you, I loved you, it wasn’t about her until after, I…” 

She smiled bigger than she thought she would. Her worries had been for nothing. “Oh, Stiles,” she whispered as she leaned into his shoulder. 

This was what moving on felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> dark cocoons  
> line my heart but  
> when i look at you  
> butterflies flutter  
> and give birth  
> to spring  
> "  
> metamorphic by k.y. robinson

Malia jogged over to the forest, her ear buds in even though she could still hear the rushing of passing cars no matter how high she turned the sound up. A song about kissing on gentle grass came on and her face flushed pink. She became strangled on the chord trying to change it and heard laughter from over her shoulder. Scott’s big hands had come to unwrap her. Her eyes lingered on his fingers while he teased, “I rescued you.” 

You have no idea, she thought, but she groaned painfully at his joke and stuffed her music into her backpack. “Oh, yes,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I was losing my battle against romance.”

Scott’s smile fell and his eyes caught hers, and she was quick to correct his assumption. 

“I mean, the song, the song was,” she drifted off, a little lost in his face and how he seemed to want to take care of her. Not even Stiles had tried that, but this wasn’t belittling like she assumed it would be from anyone else. It was like they were equals and the weight of it was beyond her.

Scott smiled at her and she took his hand to drag them to their favorite spot. A hill opened up to them, rolling with sweet grass and clover. Malia dumped her backpack unceremoniously, but caught it in a swift motion before it hit the ground. Scott quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged while pulling out a glass bottle of scotch. She had brought it on a whim, but now she felt silly for forgetting it. 

“Bad talk with Stiles?” he guessed, sitting on the weeds under her feet and patting her foot. 

She laughed and handed him the bottle. “No, just wanted to celebrate,” she explained trying to kick off her shoes and his grip. 

“Celebrate?” Scott asked, finally releasing his hold while she freed her feet, “so it went well?”

Malia grinned as she plopped next to him, snatching the alcohol and screwing off the top while saying, “yeah, it went…good.” She glanced at the sunny man beside her, picking at grass, and said, “I’m moving on.”

Scott looked at her and kept her gaze, “I’m glad, Lia.” There was something there in those dark eyes, the twitch of his lips that made Malia’s nerves vibrate. 

Malia took a swig of the scotch a little too quickly and Scott laughed at her as she choked. She was happy, happy in a way she hadn’t felt since she met Stiles and had had Kira around. 

They fell into silence for a short time, before Scott hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I think about Kira every day,” he said, frowning a bit. 

Malia bumped their shoulders and nodded. “I miss her, too,” she said, weighing the bottle in her hands.

Scott seemed to drift off into thought, and Malia began to wonder what Kira was doing now. If she missed them, if Malia would ever see her again. It panged in her ribs like a lost bone and Malia knew that she had to see her again, someday. 

“Lia,” Scott ventured, interrupting her thoughts, “can I ask you something?”

Malia shrugged noncommittally, knowing that Scott would ask anyway and that she’d probably answer him. 

Scott fidgeted, a pile of grass lay next to his knee, steadily rising like a skyscraper. Malia took another drink of the bottle, wishing that she could be drunk faster. 

Malia didn’t like being nervous. 

“Did you mean it?” he whispered, looking at his hands. Hands that she wished were still in hers and not ripping out the ground. 

“Mean what?” she asked, reading the bottle for alcohol content. When she was met with silence she peaked around the glass and saw him staring and she was struck with how earnest he was. 

Malia bit her lip and shifted closer to him, setting the bottle on her other side. She thought about changing the subject but instead blurted, “of course I meant it, why wouldn’t I?”

Scott’s smile blinded her and he chuckled, shaking his head and blushing a bit. He crept closer until their shoulders touched, and when Malia turned her head to face him their noses brushed. 

She blinked and suddenly her world was full of warmth, soft, and wet. Scott was kissing her and something in her snapped. 

She’d missed this, all of it. The affection, the love, the sex. Malia surged forward, hands on Scott’s face, cupping his jaw and climbed into his lap. She had wanted for so long, she realized, and now she ached with it. 

Scott held her securely in his arms and bit at her mouth and Malia rolled her hips against his pelvis. Scott moaned into her lips and clutched her tighter and Malia was lost. She grabbed her tee-shirt and began to throw it off but she was on her back and staring up at her alpha before she could.

His eyes were burning and intense, but his smile was almost shy. Scott. 

“Oh, Lia,” he panted, gently bringing his hand down her cheek, the other cradling her hip, “please, please, take this a little slower with me.”

Malia wanted to pout but she had butterflies at his tone and she found herself nodding into his palm. He kissed her like a wisp of wind, a warm summer breeze, over and over, hands in her hair, and she noticed that she was sinking into it. Falling, but she wasn’t alone. Scott was holding her through it. 

“Next time,” he promised, eyes never leaving hers, “we’ll go farther, Lia.”

Malia smiled wolfishly and Scott mirrored it. Malia could accept that. 

She rolled over on top of him, laying her head on his chest like they had done so many times, but it was full of something new now. 

The closing and ending of one book, she mused, and the beginning of a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> you are a natural   
> phenomenon-  
> not a natural disaster.  
> "  
> elements ii, k.y. robinson

Lydia flipped through a fashion magazine that reminded Malia of how she used to dress up barbies as a child with her sister. She surprised herself with a wisp of a smile and dragged her hand through her friend’s hair. 

Maybe this is what Kylie and Malia would be doing now, if things had been different. They would be dancing around a bedroom with purple mirrors and bright lights, laughing and looking at pictures, like she was now. 

She threw out her arms, beckoning for Lydia to join her on the carpet. Lydia frowned at her over a picture of Jennifer Lawrence. Malia swiveled her hips salaciously and grinned, her eyes full of mischief. 

Lydia sighed like she’d been told her couldn’t do extra credit and slide off the bed in a flurry of her skirt. Malia’s grin broadened as Lydia took her hands. She twirled Lydia, her hair spanning in the air before Lydia’s smiling face rounded on her again. 

“How’d you learn to do that?” she asked breathlessly, arms around Malia’s sweater. She shrugged, a little embarrassed at her knowledge.

“I liked dancing as a kid, a lot,” she explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “my sister and I took classes.” 

Lydia’s grip tightened into a hug and she rested her head on Malia’s shoulder. They were quiet, swaying gently like a breeze, before Lydia spoke. “We should take a class,” she said, not looking up from her spot on Malia.

Her heart speed up, emotions bubbling and she stuck her face in Lydia’s red mane. Silence had always made others uncomfortable. Malia had always equated it with danger, with things she didn’t want to deal with. Here she was, in between one breath and the next, and there was no sound. 

She wasn’t afraid. 

“Yeah,” she exhaled, blowing strands of rose into the air, “I’d love that.”

The moment wasn’t lost on Lydia, who caught her gaze when she looked up at Malia, her face tear stained and blotched.

It was beautiful, these shared emotions, and these shared moments.

This was her life, she realized, and though it was without her sister and mother, and though she’d do anything to have them back, she knew that they weren’t coming back. But she’d gained so much in the turmoil and loss. 

Growth was losing something that she’d held onto for a long time. 

Pain. 

Lydia patted her cheek and Malia sniffed. “Look at us,” she said, chuckling, “we are a mess.”

Malia bumped their heads together. “I like it,” she whispered, and Lydia didn’t question her. 

Later, the magazines were left scattered on the floor and the moon shone through Lydia’s window, and Malia sat braiding Lydia’s hair. It was methodical and her hair was soft in her hands. She created the pattern and listened to Lydia talk about her classes and their friends. 

“You ever dance with Scott?” Lydia asked with an air of indifference which made Malia focused more on her words. It was an odd question and Malia wrinkled her nose.

“Why?” she challenged, staring at Lydia’s face in the mirror. Lydia didn’t meet her eyes and kept applying her lipstick.

“You should dance with him,” she continued as if Malia hadn’t said anything, smacking her lips together and sealing her makeup bag. 

Malia dropped her hair and crossed her arms, but she when she thought about it she grew warm, but also breathtakingly terrified. 

“I danced with Stiles once, when we were younger,” Lydia said, tying the braid off and finally catching Malia’s look. 

She wasn’t saying it to rub it in her face, she was insinuating something.

“I’m not dating Scott,” Malia said, chin out and eyes sharp. Lydia rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips to stand off with her. 

“But you want to,” she countered, eyes narrowing, “and I think you should dance with him.”

Malia huffed but dropped her arms. “I…what if he won’t?”

Lydia’s face dropped into a kind smile and she slung her purse over her shoulder. “He will,” she said with certainty, a gleam in her eye that made Malia feel off kilter, “and he’s waiting at your house.”

“I hate you,” Malia shouted after Lydia, who had flown out her door.

“You’ll thank me!” she said as Malia watched the tail end of her hair disappear, leaving Malia alone and nervous. 

Malia didn’t know how to deal with the electricity in her veins, giving her heart extra pumps and shaky hands. She wanted, so badly, and yet she would have to jump to get it. 

She took a step forward towards the mirror and flicked her hair over her shoulder. She looked like herself, not any different. So why did she feel like she was on a precipice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> ...  
> i feel spellbound  
> when you surround  
> and rush through my veins  
> ...  
> "  
> beautiful stranger, k.y. robinson

Malia didn’t go home. 

The beat of the bass reverberated through her, stuttering her heart. She was a little lost in the music, the liquor, the smell of sweat. Her hair was smattered against her face, her hips would have been sore if she were human. 

People danced around her, but she felt alone. But the noise and the vibrations kept her sane, kept her distracted. 

The beat skipped for a moment and she opened her eyes, vision blurred by the strobe lights, her face littered with green and blue. In that moment she thought of Kira, the shimmer in the air of glitter and music ran into her blood stream, brought her back to that time. It seemed so long ago that they had gone to Mexico. Kira’s jerky movements had made Malia laugh and she smiled at the memory. 

The energy of the club changed, everything turned slow, drugged. Malia turned toward the bar and caught deep brown eyes watching her, a small smirk attached to a crooked jaw. 

Scott raised his drink a little in the air and Malia briefly wondered how he got in. Then she remembered that Stiles probably taught him how to get a fake ID too. She came into herself, felt the heat of everyone around her, and she halted her dancing and just stared. There was an air about Scott that stunned her and she watched as he downed his drink and made his way to her. The crowd seemed to part for him and Malia wanted run more than she had at any other time that night. 

Hell, she’d already run away earlier. 

The nerves were too much in her mouth and her eyes darted from his. Scott approached her and cupped her chin in his hand. He leaned in close even though he didn’t have to and whispered, “are you going to dance with me?” 

Malia caught herself nodding before she could stop herself. Scott’s hands were on her hips and Malia momentarily regretted wearing a sequin skirt before Scott pulled her against his chest. 

He swiveled his hips, rocked against her and grinned. Malia swallowed her silence and took a shaky step forward. “You can dance?” she asked while blowing her hair out of her eyes. 

Scott shrugged as they slowly moved together, the lyrics thumping around her head but she wasn’t getting lost in them like before. His soulful eyes found hers and he smiled.  
“Lia,” he said, wrapping his arms fully around her, “let go.”

She felt it again. Malia was on a bridge, right in the middle, and she had to choose which direction to go. Her hands traveled up Scott’s chest and ran through his hair. She shook her body, sequins singing, and rolled her hips against Scott’s to the booming of the music. 

Scott gripped her tighter and growled as they danced, their bodies following each other’s rhythm. Malia’s eyes brightened and she beamed at him and his red stare. He let go of her hips and held her face in his huge hands. She could feel the indentations of her skirt on his palms; could see the eyelashes lining his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, and Malia’s heart rammed against her sternum. 

They hadn’t kissed since last week. Malia had wanted so badly, but she was learning to be patient. It was more difficult than she would have guessed. 

She nodded and Scott pressed their lips together, passion sweeping over her. She was suddenly hotter than before; lighter than she was a moment ago. 

Scott didn’t pull away but tilted his head to kiss her harder. She hugged him, felt his heart quicken. 

“I’ll race you home,” she demanded when she pulled away, eyes glinting in the dim lights. 

Scott chuckled and said, “My mom’s not home.”

Malia said nothing as she rushed out of the building before taking off as fast as she could from behind the club. Scott was probably faster, she reasoned, but she wanted to run the fear out of system. She wasn’t afraid of having sex again, or disappointing Scott in some way. She was afraid of taking that step and then losing him. 

Malia glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of her alpha chasing after her and cackled. 

Somehow, she doubted that losing him would happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you get my late night writing fueled by weed and the writing bug.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...  
> i feel spellbound  
> when you surround  
> and rush through my veins  
> i want to lose myself  
> until nothing's the same  
> in ecstasy's namr  
> ..."  
> beautiful stangers-k.y. robinson

Scott fumbled with his keys and struggled to get the right key in the lock. Malia covered her laugh with her hand and Scott glared at her over his shoulder, a wide smile covering his face. Malia continued to laugh, endorphins climbing up her spine. She didn’t know how, but this was happening. She had dreamt of Scott for a long time, he was there in the background, standing at her side. Lately those dreams had turned dirtier, and Malia wanted to be with him so badly. 

The run left her breathless but in more control of her nerves. She left sweaty hand prints on the front door; sweat clung to her shirt, making her want to rip off her drenched shirt. 

But she wanted Scott to do it more. 

It was Scott’s turn to laugh nervously when he slammed the door after her. They stood in the entryway, too much space between them and she had no idea how to fill it.  
Neither of them moved. They just watched each other, arms holding onto other body parts. 

Scott licked his lips and Malia traced the motion with her eyes, felt the flip of her stomach. Scott’s heart quickened and he took a step forward. Malia grinned devilishly and took a step back towards his room. She could be a tease, get them to calm down and loosen up a little.

Scott quirked an eyebrow and followed her until he boxed her into the doorway. She grabbed his shirt and tugged him inside, a manic grin on her face. She could only stay away from him for so long. At school she itched to hold his hand, but stopped herself. Now, maybe she wouldn’t have to. Scott brightened and dragged his finger down her arm, goose bumps following his trail. 

Malia inhaled deeply, smelling something warm and dark. What was that? She frowned and smelled it again. It reminded her of late night runs in the woods, making up to the hot sun blazing against your cheek through your window. He saw her questioning look and drew her in closer. “It’s cause I want you,” he whispered, lips against her cheek. 

She smiled at him, wondering if she emitted a similar smile. She would have to wait for the answer, because she was too distracted to ask now. Her eyes flashed blue, and Scott’s answered with bright red. 

He growled and crowded her towards the bed and she let him, the scent making her wet and ravenous, she growled at him and he stopped, eyes serious. 

“You want this as much as I do, right?” he asked, eyes wide and she want them to look at her for the rest of her life. He was kind in an achingly real way, and it made her heart skip. 

“Yes, yes, Scott,” she said, twisting them so he went sprawling onto the bed. She crawled over him as he laughed heartily, eyes glittering blood colored jewels. She laid her forehead on his and he thumped them together and rubbed their noses, soft and pliable. 

“You mean so much to me,” Scott promised, tracking her shirt up with his hands, his blunt nails scratching her skin. She shivered at his movements and put her arms above her head so he could push her shirt off. He kissed her but Malia grabbed onto his shirt and tugged, making him laugh into her mouth. They cackled together, Malia rolling off of him to the side of the bed and let herself get taken into the joy of the moment. Scott beamed at her and threw his shirt off, making a sexy face that turned them both into laughing idiots again. 

This was Scott, and they had been both taking this way too seriously. “Come here.” She motioned for him and he pressed against her, softness in his gaze as he kissed her nose and then her lips. Malia wrapped her legs around his waist and nuzzled into her neck, causing him to moan. 

Scott nipped at her neck in return and rocked his hips against hers, causing her to roll hers back. It felt good, but not good enough and it wracked her body, the need for him and the heat in her belly. Scott seemed to agree and started kissing down her shoulder, over her breast and down her stomach. He pulled at her skirt and she slide out of it easily, spreading out her legs for him to settle in between. 

“Can I take my pants off?” Scott bit his lip and Malia rolled her eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.” She wiggled her eyebrows and Scott chuckled, pulling off his pants in turn. They took their time exploring each other’s bodies, the curve of Scott’s back, the gentle slope of Malia’s breasts, before Scott discovered the dampness between her legs. 

“Is this how much you want me?” His voice was husky and his pupils dilated, and Malia knew she was getting wetter at how much he wanted her. She nodded and pushed his hand further against her pussy and he moaned, making her fling her head back against the pillow. He moved his finger into her folds and slid two inside, causing Malia to whimper. She needed him to fuck her, but she wanted to let him continue to travel her body. 

Scott kissed her as he moved his finger’s, creating a rhythm that brought Malia higher and flew her into the sky. 

“Scott, fuck me,” she growled and Scott pulled his fingers out and she frowned, momentarily missing them. Scott licked his fingers, which—woah, hot—while he looked for a condom and rolled it on. He hovered over her and she kissed his neck gently, nibbling at the skin.

Scott positioned himself and looked into her face as he pressed inside her pussy. Malia groaned at the sensation. He was big, and warm, and felt right inside of her. She clawed at his back to get him to move, his eyes glowing red as he thrust his hips against hers, hand coming up to cradle her face. She moved her hips along with his, and together the friction caused Malia to cause her orgasm. 

“Come on, Lia, come on.” Scott’s kiss was biting as he reached down to touch her clit as he fucked her. Only after a few strokes Malia cried out into it as she came, claws sinking into Scott’s back. He moaned her name and came, dropping his head onto her shoulder. She played his hair, twirling the sweaty hairs next to his neck around idly. 

While Scott was catching his breath Malia murmured, “You are important to me, too.” 

Scott peered down at her and gave her a soft smile, stroking her face and pushing the hair away from her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "  
> when you find  
> your voice,  
> keep it.  
> hold it close like  
> your very first  
> teddy bear.  
> "  
> truth k.y. robinson

Malia woke up to the sun pushing up against the clouds. Scott lay next to her flat on his stomach, his arm thrown over her stomach. She smiled through a yawn and reached for her phone, trying not to jostle Scott too much. She flicked her finger against the screen and froze. 

She stared at the date, mouth agape, horrified. Malia had forgotten. How could she? 

Scott stirred next to her as she turned to her side to hide from him. She didn’t want to be seen that vulnerable. His arm curled around her as he propped himself up to try and look at her. “What is it?” 

Malia squinted at her in a vain attempt to change the date. Or, perhaps, the whole thing was a bad dream. She bit her lip and dropped her phone with a clatter on the floor. She saw blood and cracks in the window shield, bullets and claws. “It’s her birthday, my mom…” 

Scott rested his chin on her shoulder and then kissed it softly, peppering her skin. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked with his hand splayed against her hip. 

She hesitated before she looked over her shoulder at him. She thought about his warmth moving away, the steady worry of his heart out of hearing range. “No, but…I gotta see her.”

Scott kissed her then, making her sink into him. The visage of red and pain drifted away for a moment. She would never get used to the calming nature of that sort of kiss, or the heart raising ones he’d given her earlier. He pushed his forehead against hers and inhaled slowly. 

“Let’s go see her,” Scott said, reaching over her for her bra and then offering it to her.

Malia stared at him while tears pricked her eyes. A part of her wanted to scream and run, run so fast to get away that none of this could touch her, but she knew that could never work. She had come too far. Scott pretended not to notice her emotions but hovered near her as she sniffed and hooked her bra around her back. 

She had never shared her family before. The pack knew her father, and they knew Peter, but the mother and sister she lost had been kept to herself. It scared her, opening up like this, but she jutted out her chin and slipped into one of Scott’s too big tee-shirts. Scott had trusted her enough to tell her about his father, how he had grown up without him.  
Now the man wanted back into his life after it was too late. She wanted to show him that she trusted him, too, even if she couldn’t say it yet. 

She grabbed his hand, strong and sturdy in her palm, and pulled him out of his room, eyes trained ahead. He squeezed her hand and followed.  
~~~

Malia fixated on the graves, eyes watery and red. She didn’t come here often; the weight of shame or guilt was too much to carry. She kept her distance, as if getting too close would burn her. 

Scott breezed past her, nudging her shoulder with his, and knelt with respect in front of the slabs. He acted without her fear, but he had experienced loss too. Malia thought of Allison’s death. How she would never know her. She thought of his absent father and Kira leaving. Instinct drove her to place a shaky hand on his shoulder. He leaned his head down against it and addressed her family. 

“Hi, Mrs. Tate. Hi Kiley,” Scott said with warmth, like they were old friends. It had been so long since she heard someone else say their names. 

“Evelyn,” she whispered, grip tightening around Scott’s shirt, “her name was Evelyn.”

He laughed and shrugged awkwardly, dusting off some of the twigs away from the etchings. “With respect, I think I’ll call your mom Mrs. Tate for now.”

The tears had made their way to her chin without her noticing. It was as if Scott was really meeting her family for the first time. She supposed he was. Words escaped her, bubbled over her immobility. “Dad loves Scott, mom. You’d love him too, Kiley, you would get a kick out of his jokes…” 

Malia dropped her head down, tears finding the grass. She thought of how life went on as they were soaked up by the dirt. How life got better, how much brighter it was. Scott turned towards her on his knees and she fell into his chest. She kept babbling, “mom, he’s always there for me, and you’d love him, I—I love him.” 

The spew of realizations was not unexpected, but she had been afraid. Thoughts of Stiles’s walking away from his jeep had kept her mouth shut, her words prisoner. She had spent her nights alone and worried, almost hating her feelings. Now they were known. Scott’s arms tightened around her and there was wetness against her cheek. 

“Mrs. Tate, I love her too.” Scott pulled away to look her in the eyes. Promises swam in them, and she felt confusingly joyous along with heavy grief. Scott kissed her head and wiped at her wet face, making her chuckle at his doting.

She heard footsteps stop a while away. They both looked over Malia’s shoulder and saw Stiles’s hand in Lydia’s, both of them keeping their distance. They were there to support her. She wondered if she should really be that surprised. They were her friends, though a few months ago she would have argued differently. She waved them over, knowing she was making the decision to keep their pack together. 

She made it gladly. 

Scott helped her to her feet and Lydia let go of Stiles’s and latched herself onto Malia as Scott wrapped himself around Stiles. Before long she was bear hugged by the men, capsuled in a huge hug by her pack. She stood on her own feet but they loved her. In front of her family she vowed silently that she’d fight for all of them. 

For the first time, she counted herself too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This is the first time I've attempted to write a chapter fic by myself, and actually finish it!


End file.
